


Don't Stop Now

by oddeyejimin



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Loss of Virginity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, omg i hate this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddeyejimin/pseuds/oddeyejimin
Summary: “If you think yourself a lady, then what I expect from you, of your stature and your deeds, well, it would be no thing to tell a lady.”“Indeed? If it’s no thing to tell a lady, perhaps one may show it to a lady?” The heaving of your chest made clear the intensity of your heartbeat, your cheeks reddening and your thighs clenching as you placed your hand on his thigh.His legs tense, and the rate of his breathing increases. “Indeed, I could show my lady, if she allows me to.”“Then show her.”-In which John and reader like each other a lot.
Relationships: John Marston/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Don't Stop Now

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time posting on ao3! i noticed there wasn't a lot for my man john marston so i decided to take matters into my own hands.

“Let me take you to my tent,” John pulls away from your lips. “Their eyes are on us.”

Indeed, it was no secret to any gang member of John’s affections towards yourself. Since that first fateful day Hosea introduced you to him, he watched you from a distance, eyes diverting when you caught him, face red, hands shaking when near him. A simple brush of skin against skin sent him away, eyes dark and mouth pinched for the remainder of the day. From these behaviours, suspicions arose of his attraction to you, yourself noticing too.

Glancing around from where you sit at the campfire, two of the women sit not far, eyes on the two of you, speaking in whispers, smirks upon their faces. “Take me there right now,” you whisper, forehead pressing against his.

John stands, pulling you to your feet, wrapping an arm around your waist as he leads you to his tent. Sitting you on the cot, he unravels and buttons shut the front flap.

“I think those outside are expecting what’s to happen next,” you laugh. John grins, sitting next to you. You try to catch his eye, but the shy bastard holds his gaze to the ground. “I can hear the morning teases before they’ve happened.”

“Let them imagine,” he replies, “but it ain’t what happening,” he glances at you, face flushing, “if you don’t want it. I just wanna be with you, without their eyes and comments, that’s all.”

Silence follows, uncertain how to respond. You did want him, after all. “Have you done what it is… that two people may do together in bed?” now your face flushes, and you avoid his eye. He looks at you, eyes widening, before returning to his former state.

“I had a girl, once. Been a while since she went and left me and the others, but she taught me them intimacies. Was younger than I, but was older in that sense, I guess. Good times, they was.” A smile twinged the edge of his lip, surely from the memories.

“Only one? That’s not the number that I expected from someone of your stature and morals, Marston. Tell me, was she pretty? Did she please you? Did you love her?”

“She was beautiful. I loved her, and I thought she felt the same, but she still left. Wasn’t good enough for her, I guess.” He scoffs, shaking his head. The memory still pained him.

But the memory pained him not enough to distract his thoughts from your daring questions. “Have you done it?” His eyes are bold, staring holes into body. Perhaps he is undressing you with his eyes.

You laugh. “Now, is that a question one asks a lady?”

“Just returning the question. You were bold, asking me all that.”

“Would you care if I did or didn’t?”

“Course not. Now tell me.”

“Truth is, I don’t know the bedtime deeds,” you ruffle the fabric of your dress, avoiding his eyes “Well, that’s not to say that I don’t know what happens between two, as I’ve often read stories, heard from other’s experiences, and watched it myself, but never have I experienced so myself.”

“That so? That’s not what I expected from someone of your stature or morals, Missy.”

“Of my morals? Why, have I the one with blood on my hands? Never have I murdered another.”

“We’ve all heard you talk, talking freely of fucking and horseshit and killing. Now you’ve told me that you’ve read and seen obscenities. Never have you murdered a feller, but you sure talk of killing folk often.”

“You don’t think of me as a virtuous young woman? What is it you expect from me, of my stature and my morals, Mr. Marston?”

“If you think yourself a lady, then what I expect from you, of your stature and your deeds, well, it would be no thing to tell a lady.”

“Indeed? If it’s no thing to tell a lady, perhaps one may show it to a lady?” The heaving of your chest made clear the intensity of your heartbeat, your cheeks reddening and your thighs clenching as you placed your hand on his thigh. 

His legs tense, and the rate of his breathing increases. “Indeed, I could show my lady, if she allows me to.”

“Then show her.”

He places his hand over yours that rested on his knee, and rested his other hand on the smell of your back. “Let me kiss you?” he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes on your lips.

“Please do.”

He let go of your hand, and cupped your right cheek. He stalls, lips parted, the lower trembling, before shutting his eyes and pressing his lips to yours. His kiss fills your mouth with sweet medicine, sweet nectar and honey. He eases away from the kiss, eyes wide, breath heavy. Your cheeks heat, even more so as you imagine how red you are, and a bottomless pit opens in your belly. He strokes your cheek, eyes moving from your lips to eyes.

“You’ve seen people fucking?” he asks.

“I have.”

“How did you come across it?”

“Well,” you fiddle your fingers. “It’s quite a shameful story. They didn’t know I watched through a hole in the wall, nor did they catch me. It was in a hotel room, I knew not the woman or the man.”

“In what sort did they do it?”

“The man laid on his back, while the woman rode him like a bronco. I saw her slit swallowing up his tool, disappearing and reappearing red and glistening, and her breasts heaving with every move.”

“How’d you feel, watching the scene?”

“I felt very red and hot, and I touched and rubbed myself, but it satiated me to no degree.”

“Dear lord,” his breath increases. “Ain’t you excited me.” And he took your hand and rubbed it at his erection. “Do you feel it? Do you feel how you’ve excited me?”

At his daring gesture, you could only grope him.

“Don’t think me the fool, John. I’ve noticed what I do to you. Outside, when we sat by the fire and kissed, you tried to cover yourself most discreetly, but you only made it more apparent. Tell me, John, do you think of me when you are alone in your tent, in the deepest hours of night?”

“If I say no,” he rubs against your hand, “I would be telling no truth.”

“Tell me, dear John, what did you think of doing to me? What did you do to yourself?”

“I’d play with myself, and think of my hand as yours, or — God forbid — I’d think of myself inside you.”

“Oh my,” you whisper.

“You should see yourself right now,” he says, pinching your left cheek. “Ain’t you like a tomato.” He lowers his head, kissing the base of your neck, before moving back, eyes diverting from your body.

“I hope I didn’t frighten you, with what I just said,” he turns his head, releasing your hand from his groin.

“Don’t stop now, you fool,” you say, grabbing his thigh, and planting your lips against his. “I am most delighted to hear of your nighttime adventures.” He loses his nervous disposition, and holds the back of your head and your waist, and deepens the kiss. 

Fire enters your veins as the intensity rises, the volume of the tent shrinking, the heat rising, his tongue entering your mouth, touching your own. He presses against you, pushing your back to the cot.

In this new position, splayed across your back, his weight upon you, his legs between yours, heat and aches and lust like you never knew danced under the surface of your skin, most greatly centred in your unspeakables. Is this what the most passionate desires feel like? Was this love, or just desire? Such fiery intensities never crossed you before, not in the state of watching sexual intercourse, nor touching yourself in the quietest hour of night. He rubs his erection against your slit.

“Tell me again, missy — have you been with a man before?” he rasps.

“Never,” you reply.

“Guess I’ll be your first.”

He kisses your neck before traveling down your body, pulling your hips to the edge of the cot. He starts first with unlacing your boots, slipping them off your feet, handling them delicately as if a flower, and raises your petticoats up to your thighs, pulling loose your drawers. He doesn’t bother with your stockings. Perhaps he thought you’d appear more innocent and erotic with them on.

“Oh,” you start. “you move your fingers in such a way — I’m certain you’ve done this many a time.”

“Never has an opportunity to go slow has risen,” he replies. “And never with a virgin. And as I said before, I had an experienced mentor.” that word,  _ virgin _ , teasing on his tongue, tingles down your spine. “And the way you be speaking to me, makes me think you’ve done this many a time.”

His fingers massage your thighs, slipping under the tight bodice to touch and pinch your belly. He removes his hands from under your skirts, and begins unbuttoning your bodice, the fingers ghosting over your breasts, erecting your hairs.

Now you lay in front of him, bodice open — though the sleeves not yet removed, skirts hitched to your thighs, the top of the stockings and the hem of your skirt, revealing a strip of skin. He presses kisses to your neck, fingers kneading your breast through the chemise, before lowering to stroke the exposed skin of your thigh. The heat in your belly grows unbearable, swallowing, boiling, the throbbing of your lower regions like an angry tide, heart thundering like hooves against a racetrack.

“John, stop this madness,” you hiss. “Get it in me.”

You sit up, tugging the frock coat off his arms, untying his vest. He’s quick to follow, pulling the suspenders off his shoulders and slipping out of his shirt sleeves, letting it hang from where it tucks into his pants. He slips your bodice off entirely, and removes your skirt and petticoat, leaving you only in your stockings and chemise. He pulls your chemise hem over your hips to the center of your belly, and pulls your arms out of the sleeves, lowering the neckline below your breasts.

“My God,” he stumbles across his words, eyes dancing across your breasts to the hair dusted between your legs, his hands firm on your waist. Your cheeks heat, not from arousal, but from embarrassment. After all, this was the first time you exposed yourself to man, and though your body ached for his touch and kisses, your thoughts gave way to shame. You cover your delicates with your hand, your breasts with the other.

“Listen to me, missy,” John says. His eyes mean to meet yours, but you hold your head back, eyes to the heavens. “Look at me — there ain’t nothing to be ashamed. There ain’t nothing to be ashamed of when you’re with me. But if this ain’t what you want no more, tell me, and it will be like it never happened.”

“I want this,” you affirm, lower lip trembling. “It’s simply nerves, from you know I have never done this before, never has the male sex seen me the way God made me. But I desire you, more than I’ve desired anything.”

He rubs his erection against your thigh, kissing your cheek. “I want you, more than words could tell. No word I know of could explain,” his eyes are heavy and dark. 

“You’re not that smart, so it’s no shock you can’t find a better word,” he smiles at your teasing.

He kisses down from your cheek, to your neck, stopping to suck at the skin of your collarbone. His fingers pinch your nipples, pulling slightly. He lets go of your neck, focusing on your breasts. “Why would you want to hide such a thing? What is there to be ashamed of? These two ain’t nothing that are leaving my thoughts soon.” His breath increases, before he latches onto your left nipple.

You cry out, a jab of heat rides from between your legs to your throat, and you grab a fistful of his hair, the other arm wrapping around his shoulders. “Oh, John!”

He let go of your nipple. “Do you like it, Miss?”

“Don’t stop now,” you weep, pressing his head down, and his tongue glides across your nipple, and he lets go and latches onto your right nipple, tongue pressing hard against it.

The single act of him sucking on your breasts dissolves your brain into a puddle of its former self, your once rational mind now incoherent, unable to form a thought other than  _ don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop _ .

Once his mouth leaves your breasts, a whine leaves you, writhing your body, desperate for contact. Hands on your thighs, he continues his descent, mouth dancing across the flesh of your belly, your hand still nestled in the mess of his hair. He takes your other hand off your cunt. Spreading wide your legs, he pushes your knees up to your chest, exposing your vulva and rear. He gasps, breath unsteady, fingers trembling as he strokes your bum.

“My God” he begins, your heart pounding so thunderously you swear you could see it moving through your chest, “it’s so pretty, darling, and — ” he licks between the lips, and you cannot contain the cry that escapes you, surely everyone in camp heard that — “so sweet, my God, breathtaking!”

He spreads wide the lips of your little cunt, licking from posterior to anterior, tonguing the clitoris before lips wrapped around it, sucking desperately. His stubble scratched your thighs, exhilarating the pleasure erupting in you. One hand leaves the lips of your cunt, pulling your nipple.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!” you cry out, pulling his hair like reins, guiding him to the most desireable spots, legs wrapping around his head, close to suffocating him in passion. “Show me how much you want me.”

Not any earthly matter could take your eyes from this sight, of his face pressed to your pussy, his tongue circling your clitoris, and the pure, unbridled lust in his sweet brown eyes when he looked up to you.

Indeed, it embarrassed you how quickly this act brought you to climax in such a short period of time. Not a minute passes of the sucking and tonguing, before you cry out, “oh, John, you’re going to kill me with this!” This announcement invigorates him, and he begins stroking your clitoris at an increased pace.

All of it — the mouth on your vulva, the tongue on your clitoris, the stubble rubbing your thigh, and the hand on your breast — pushed you to a brink where no force on Earth could bring you back. You moaned a moan loud enough to be the subject of relentless teasing next morning, and the buildup released, arms clenching to your chest, legs squeezing John’s head, your pussy throbbing, as orgasm took over your body.

Of course, you’d brought yourself to orgasm before, but the act of receiving an orgasm, instead of giving it to yourself, heightened the sensations.

As you approach a more even mind after the high, he continues to stroke your clitoris, though now more leniently, and your legs shake.

“You want me to show you more?” he rests his chin on your belly, hands playing with your breasts. His mouth and chin glisten, his eyes wide.

“Please do,” you tussle his hair, raising your hips to his face.

“Tell me what it is you want me to do to you.”

“I want you to — ” you swallow thickly, the words stuck in your throat. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I want to hear those words leave your mouth.”

“I want you to fuck me.” the words leave your mouth quietly and heavily.

He grins. “All you need to do is tell me, darling.” he stands from his knees, adjusting you so that your hips touch the edge of the cot. He unbuttons the fly of his pants, and pulls out his cock, stroking it.

He rubs the head between your lips, moans escaping you when he rubs the clitoris. “Come on, John, stop teasing,” you pant. “Put it in me.”

“Who am I to refuse my lady?” He circles your opening, before pushing his cock into your crevice. You cry out at the connection, eyes shut, the invasion incomparable to any other sensation. You take hold of his shoulders, pulling his torso to yours.

“You good?” he pants. You open your eyes to a sweaty, hard-breathed John, his eyes wild and lustful. Slighting his hips, it is difficult for him to not pin you down, and fuck you into the mattress.

“I’m good,” you gasp. The cock is not fully sheathed in you yet, but it rushes the air from your lungs. “Just a strange feeling, that’s all.”

“Tell me what you want, how you want it,” he hosts a hand under your hip, the other resting beside your head. “Tonight, you’re in charge.”

“John,” one hand strokes his back, the other griping his hair. “Put it in me entirely.”

He nods, lips parted, easing in your cunt. His hips meet yours, and his cock seems to push past the limits of your canal, knocking out the little breath left in you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.” It’s an uncomfortable, queer sensation, but leaves an odd sense of pleasure blooming in your belly, aching for more. “Please fuck me.”

He moves out, achingly slow, before pushing back in at the same pace. He does this several times, and you are thankful for that, as it gave you further time to adjust to the intrusion, while satiating your desire. He kisses your neck, to your cheek, to your mouth. The secretions from your pussy still lingers on his tongue, and you wince when it enters your mouth. It left an odd taste on your tongue, but you tolerate it.

He picks up the pace, most lewd noises coming from where he enters and exits you. He grunts with every other thrust, and you whimper with every thrust. Your hand reaches down between your bodies, ghosting over your clitoris and touching where his cock meets your pussy, before going back to stroke your clit.

“There you go,” he growls. “Touch yourself.”

The cock filling your belly, and the hand on your clit, began boiling the pleasure over, and louder cries and moans left you, your body heaving and thrashing wildly to meet his thrusts.

“I knew you’d like it,” he says, before latching onto your neck, scraping his teeth across the flesh.

You are helpless against the cot as he fucks you, pulling his hair, moaning his name. There was a time you’d be embarrassed at your moans, the sound of flesh against flesh, now undoubtedly filling the camp, but the pleasure and love in you couldn’t compare to the now-dwindling embarrassment. 

Your moans and cries space closer and grow uncontrollable, approaching your second orgasm. Your legs tremble and tighten around his body, running down his back and thighs, pushing him inside you to the hilt, the entirety of your lower body throbbing and spazzing. The gratification ran from your cunt, down your legs, and up to your breasts, Aphrodite’s sweet gifts of pleasure showering upon you.

Indeed, no word could describe the feelings in your body. If intercourse is a sin, then it is positively worth going to hell for it. Even the holiest saints would repent their god if they felt the same as you in that very moment.

He doesn’t bother to stop nor slow down after your peak, only picking up the pace, pursuing his own finish. He presses his chest against yours, tongue running against your jaw, and the friction of his hips rubbing against your clitoris sends sparks of pleasure-pain through your body, and you bite into the flesh of his shoulder, him moaning in response. Raising his torso off from yours, he takes hold of your right leg, pressing your thigh against his chest, calf over his shoulder. His left hand grasps your thigh, the other squeezing your breast.

“Where do you want me to finish?” he says, not relenting his assault on your pussy.

“Do it on my belly,” you reply.

The stimulation on your clit from hip-against hip, and the motion in your cunt creates another force of pleasure, and most unexpectedly, you reach another summit of sinful indulgence, writhing and sinking your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. 

“Satiable to no degree, ain’t you?” he says.

John follows after you, moaning and cursing, pulling his cock out of you and stroking it, releasing on your belly and up to your very breasts.

He heaves, before collapsing on top of you, smearing his spend on both torsos. Head nestled in your shoulder, he murmurs a deceleration of love before falling asleep. 

Stroking his back, you ponder the words he declared before sleeping. Did you love him? Perhaps you could learn to, if he continued to fuck you so. 

Most exhausted from his unfaltering fucking, you shut your eyes and enter dream.

FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me your thoughts! hopefully i'll be posting more writing on here soon.
> 
> also follow me on tumblr @oddeyetrio if u want lol


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